Fruit from a Sour Grapevine
by TappinCastlefan
Summary: "But behavior in the human being is sometimes a defense, a way of concealing motives and thoughts, as language can be a way of hiding your thoughts and preventing communication." A collaboration between ajksmusic & TappinCastlefan.
1. I

**_Fruit From A Sour Grapevine_**

_a collaboration between ajksmusic & TappinCastlefan_

**Disclaimer:** We like to pretend.

**Summary:** "But behavior in the human being is sometimes a defense, a way of concealing motives and thoughts, as language can be a way of hiding your thoughts and preventing communication." -Abraham Maslow

Sometimes it takes an accidental chain of conversation to bring necessary change.

* * *

><p>Alexis watches from the other side of the table as Lanie – Dr. Parish – carefully removes and weighs the patient's organs before placing them all back in the body cavity. It's almost like a dance, she thinks, as the medical examiner works with smooth transitions from table to scale and back again, reciting the proper information for Alexis to record between her explanations of the process and other important details.<p>

But Alexis' mind is only half _really_ concentrating, her hand mechanically writing down the numbers for the file. She can't help it, but she keeps thinking back to that crime scene, how she watched as her dad and Detective Beckett worked through the details and came up with theory. She couldn't lie; it was sort of fascinating to watch.

It was obvious that they worked well together.

But if they worked so well together, why did she constantly have this sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach every time her dad answered the Detective's calls or left at odd hours?

"Hey, Dr. Parish?"

She looks over, across the y-cut after replacing the patient's liver, meeting Alexis' eyes with an amused look. "Girl, what did I tell you? It's no big deal, you can use my first name."

"Right. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just used to school and all that." The girl fidgets where she stands, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, her face the picture of nervous contemplation.

"What's on your mind?"

"Um, I'm not really sure. I think."

Lanie strips off the gloves she wore for her internal exam to take a swab of the inside of the patient's mouth and moves over to the microscope. Alexis follows like a good intern, taking a mental note of everything the medical examiner does, but her mind is still on her dad and Detective Beckett.

Her mentor's eyes are in the scope when she finally finds her words. "Are my dad and Detective Beckett always like that? At a crime scene?"

A laugh breaks through Lanie's silence. "Like what?"

"Like…a unit. Like they each know exactly what the other's going to say before they say it? It's…creepy."

"It's effective. And yes, they're almost always like that. The way they work? Baby, you're never going to find another pair of partners that fit they way they do."

Alexis can only nod, as they move into Lanie's office. She's still unsure about exactly how she felt knowing that the two were pretty much a perfect team. They had just looked so casual outside the building, but still so critical? She's never seen her dad look that focused, or think that…professionally, if he wasn't writing.

Almost like he's a totally different person when he's with her.

The gentle slap of Lanie's hand against the desk breaks her reverie.

"I wasn't born yesterday Lexi, I know that's not it. What else are you thinking about?"

Alexis sighs and drops into the rolling chair Lanie waves her to. "I guess it's just weird for me. Like, I'm stepping in on something that's just theirs."

"Well, to be fair to you, there isn't a 'them'."

Lanie speaks to her like she's an adult, but with just a hint of a loving tone that she doesn't get to hear to often.

Alexis stretches out in the chair, drops her head back to stare at her favorite spot on the ceiling. She was alone in the office one afternoon when she looked up and found the little spot that looked like a sort of abstract cursive 'A', and now it's 'her spot'. She just stares at the little etching in the ceiling tile before whispering, "My dad wants there to be a 'them'."

"I know."

"I think everyone knows. Everyone but her."

Only silence comes and her head pops up. Alexis looks over the desk to find Lanie fiddling her thumbs, lips pinched together.

"Don't you think it should be obvious? I mean, he does...everything for her. You've read the books, right?"

Lanie swivels back and forth in her desk chair. "Mhmm."

"So you know. He runs around the city playing cops and robbers for a woman who can't see that he's in love with her."

"I wouldn't be so sure." It's barely audible. Just a stroke of pure luck that Alexis _doesn't_ so much as swallow at that exact moment and can hear the statement.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," Lanie stutters, practically jumping up from her seat with the file in her hands again. "It was nothing. Now, we need to get the toxicology results from the-"

"No, that's not nothing." Alexis can't help it. Her voice cracks, with what? Anger? Sadness? Regret? It's an odd cocktail that she can't figure out in the split second, but she knows that this is important, and she _needs_ to know the truth. Because watching her dad follow the detective around like a puppy is driving her crazy. "Lanie? What's going on?"

Lanie's foot taps against the tile, staccato strikes that further prove to Alexis that what she said most certainly was not 'nothing'.

"Come on, Lanie. I'm not a child. I'm not stupid." Alexis feels that telltale bubble in the back of her throat and fights like hell to swallow it back. She's not a child. She's not a baby and she's not going to cry like one, over her daddy's love problems.

Lanie just looks at her, thinking for what feels like hours. She opens her mouth, but no words come out. It closes again, and opens, and closes once more before Lanie's guiding Alexis to the couch, wagging a finger in the girls face.

"If I trust you with this. I'm _trusting_ you with this. It's…a _big_ deal Alexis. The biggest. And…I'll probably get my ass kicked for telling you."

Alexis can't find her voice, too intimidated, and anxious and nervous, so she just nods.

"Your dad…" she sighs, "he told Detective Beckett – Kate, that he loves her. When she was shot. And she knows."

Alexis's mouth opens, random syllables tumbling out.

"But! But your dad doesn't. Kate's still…not a hundred percent yet. So she's waiting. Until things are right. You understand that, right? That this isn't some silly crush, it's a big issue between two adults, and there's…a lot more in their way than a bunch of states."

"Lanie," Alexis whispers, "I _know_ that my dad and, and Kate are different than me and Ashley. I really do. This is…more important than me and Ashley. Which, is why it's so hard to watch. It shouldn't be this hard."

Lanie's hand comes up, gently smoothing down Alexis's hair – like an older sister would. "You're right, it shouldn't. But adults are…stupid, and-" She looks away for a moment and pinches her lips together again. "You just have to give them time, okay?"

Alexis nods.

"And this was just between us, got it?"

This time Alexis smiles, faintly and thin, "Got it."


	2. II

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she knows isn't going to go well. Heading down the hallway into her dad's study, she sees him hunched over his desk, staring at the empty Nikki Heat document. Knowing that this might do him in, she also knows she can't avoid the topic forever.

Not even trying to cover up the guilt on her face, she knocks on the doorframe. "Dad, can we talk?"

When he looks up at her from his desk, the pain from the last case with Beckett is still evident on his face. She's not sure of the details, but from what she had gathered it sounded like a kidnapping gone wrong.

There are bags under his eyes, and the later-than-five o'clock shadow on his face tear at her heart. She knows it's not going to get better, not after what's eating her gets out. "Hey pumpkin, of course," the unsuccessful smile on his face belying the lackluster tone in his voice. "What's wrong?"

She fiddles with her hands, and he knows that's her tell when she feels guilty. His heart begins to race, fear and anguish beginning to course through his blood.

"It's about Dr. Parish. I just … she told me something, Dad, and I'm not sure what I should do about it." Everything is coming out in a rush, and she knows she's babbling, but once she gets started, she's not sure she can stop. "I mean, it was said in confidence, and by accident, and I wasn't supposed to say anything, but then the last few days happened, with Detective Beckett and the case, and I don't know what do to, and I just … I don't know if I can keep it in anymore."

"Sweetie, just let it out." This is the most he's felt like a good father, like a human being, in the past few days, after a case like this past one. "If there's no way around it, sometimes you just have to take a breath and spit it out."

"Dad, it's about her," she draws in a shaky, almost tearful breath, "about Kate's shooting."

* * *

><p>Silence. He can hear nothing, he can feel nothing, and yet he feels everything. He can see his daughter's lips moving, can see the heartbreak on her face as she tells him everything, but in reality, outside of his body? He hears nothing beyond her utterance of "She knows." The blood starts rushing through his head, and all he can hear is white noise. Just the fuzzy edges of the conversation Alexis is trying so desperately to control.<p>

He sits back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, and drifts for a moment.

He tunes back into Alexis, hears her pleas of "Dad, I swear, Lanie didn't want to tell me, but it slipped out, and I'm not supposed to tell you, but it's been eating at me for a few days, and please, just say something?" But he can't muster up the words to ease his daughters fears, can't figure out how to placate her, and he feels horrible.

Yes, he had his suspicions, but to find out it's all true? To have his worst fears unfold in front of him, that the woman he loves, the woman he would wait for, do anything for, would lie to him? To his face. Repeatedly.

He misses when Alexis walks out of his study, her head hanging low, ashamed to have to have been the one to break him, misses when his mother ushers her upstairs, glancing back into his office, at his broken form at his desk.

It feels like hours until he finally finds the strength to move and leans forward, placing his elbows onto his desk, staring at the Nikki Heat chapter that mocks him from his laptop screen. Reading the words he had been attempting to get onto the page, he feels sick to his stomach. He needs to get out, to head somewhere other than his office, where Nikki permeates through every surface. He lifts an eyebrow at the knock at his door.

"You ok, kiddo? Alexis told me what happened." Martha's face is a palette of emotions, sadness and frustration echoing her son's, with a hint of Martha's own nerve. Her voice is gentle but firm. She crosses the space in an instant to stand next to his chair.

He's become very interested in a spot on the corner of his desk, so when she reaches out to grab his hand, he looks up at her, barely shed tears in his eyes.

His mother sighs.

"Oh, Richard. I know it's a lot. Tell you what," she runs her hand over his, "why don't you go take a walk, clear your head? Looking at Nikki Heat isn't going to help any, and Alexis believes she's destroyed everything by telling you."

"Mother, she hasn't … it's not Alexis' fault." He fumbles for words, nothing seems right now. "I just … you're right, I need to take time. I think I'm just going to head out, take a walk. Get coffee or something." He pats her hand as he lets go, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack by the door. Turning to her one final time, he surprises her by pulling her into a hug.

"No matter what I say, or have said in the past, Mother, know that I love you, ok? I may tease you endlessly, but you have taught me well. Give Alexis a hug for me, please?" He shakes his head, his voice falls to a whisper. "I don't know when I'll be back tonight." He knows that the look on her face is fear, and he places a kiss on her head. "Don't worry, Mother. I just need to clear my head, like you said."

She smiles at that, and chuckles a bit. "Son, just don't do anything rash, ok? Take some time to think before you visit any specific person, or make any choices, please?"

"Of course." With that, he heads out his front door with a heavy sigh.


	3. III

Lanie looks up from the files she's skimming when she hears the sound of the double doors down the hall swing open. Fast, followed by the heavy steps that she knows belong to one particular person. The doors in the morgue follow suit only moments later, and Castle is walking through her office door.

He pauses in the doorway, looking around. She eyes him curiously from her desk.

"You know," he says with a shrug, "I don't think I've ever really been _in _your office."

They eye each other, the tension threatening to bubble over. Castle looks nervous, and upset. His hands are shoved into his pockets, clearly in fists.

"Can I help you, Castle?"

"Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"What A-" he stops before he can give away his source, even though he knows it's going to be obvious to Lanie. But he promised to try to protect his daughter. Not that promises seemed to be getting any of them anywhere these days. "Does Kate remember?"

Lanie feels like she's swallowing her whole tongue, and there's a new rock of guilt in her stomach, but Castle's standing in front of her, looking distressed and torn, and flat out miserable, and she doesn't know what else to do.

So she says yes.

"How does she remember? No," he holds up a hand, "how _can_ she remember, and not say anything to me?"

"She was scared Castle. I think she still is. She doesn't know what's going on in her head, let alone her heart." The words are falling from her mouth before she can stop herself "Look, I don't know what she's going through right now, because she doesn't like to talk about it, she has a professional for that-"

"A professional?"

She nods, he gets the picture.

"All I can tell you is that when I saw her for the first time over the summer, after she left the hospital, she was a mess. Didn't know what to do, or who to talk to. And she sure as hell didn't know what to say to you."

_It's one of those unbearably stifling summer days when Lanie makes it up to the Beckett cabin to visit Kate. When she gets there she finds her friend curled up in a cushioned porch swing, riding the light sway that comes with the barely forgiving breeze. _

_She wipes the thin line of sweat that's making a trail down the side of her face before sliding out of the car with her overnight bag. "Hey," she calls softly as she climbs the steps. _

_Kate turns her head with only a ghost of a smile, "Hi. How was your drive?"_

"_Not too bad. Not too many people driving upstate in the middle of the week, thankfully." She nods to Kate, her body which is pulled into a tight ball, "you feeling okay today?"_

"_Okay enough, I guess." She shrugs and points to the chair next to the swing for Lanie. "The weather just kind of makes everything hard to move."_

"_It'll get better soon, Sweetie." _

"_So everyone says." There's no hiding the irritation in her voice. _

_Without hesitation Lanie leans across and rests a hand on Kate's tanned shoulder. At least having all the free time in the summer let her get some quality Vitamin D. At least she didn't look so sickeningly pale anymore. "Come on, you know it'll just take some time."_

"_Well, I've had time. A month. And everything still hurts. I'm sick of it." _

"_Your chest? Or your side?"_

"_Everything, Lanie. My body hurts to move in the mornings, like I'm suddenly eighty years old or something. And thinking about it doesn't help, because I can't - I can't think about it without feeling like everything's closing in on me."_

_Lanie takes a deep breath, knowing how much her friend is hurting. Every time they had spoken on the phone in recent weeks Kate has sounded increasingly depressed. "Have you thought about maybe going to your therapist early? Maybe you'll remember it and be able to move past it."_

_She doesn't miss Kate's tiny huff of depression and discontent. Before Lanie can even take another breath she's watching Kate look out across the small lake next to the property, swiping at errant strands of hair and scrubbing her face with her hands. _

"_What?" She doesn't need to clarify what her 'what' is referring to, clearly, not when Kate's shaking her head like a guilty child. "Kate, you're not telling me something."_

"_I…I remember what happened." Her voice is just barely a whisper. A faint bite of sound floating on the wind. _

_Lanie leans back into the wicker chair with a sigh, as if all of a sudden air is too heavy for her to withstand. "You remember? Everything?" _

"_Yeah."_

"_The funeral?"_

"_Mhmm." Kate's fingers wander, playing with a loose thread on her khaki shorts, her eyes trained on her lap as she recounts the scene. "I was standing on the podium, it was warm. I just wanted it to be over so I could get home and have a drink, get out of the damn dress blues. I was just…talking, and not really paying attention, just thinking about the words and trying not to crack and then I hear Castle yell and it hits me."_

"_Kate, you don't need to do this for me. I-"_

"_I need to, Lanie. And I don't know who else to trust with it."_

"_Okay." Lanie nods, scoots her chair a little closer, grips Kate's thin hand in hers. "Keep going. Slowly, stop if it's too much."_

"_I just….it felt like a truck hit me head-on, and then I'm on the ground and Castle's over me, just, pressing down on my chest. And everything was saturated. I thought I was dying. I really did." When she turns to look at Lanie there are tears in her eyes. Unshed, giving her eyes that glassy, watery look that rips right through Lanie's heart. "And he…" she pauses, wincing at the tightness she feels when she takes a deep breath, "he said he loved me. Loves me. I don't know." Her chest heaves with the confession and she winces again at the pressure and pain in her side and chest. "I don't know what to do, Lanie. Tell me what to do."_

_Lanie swallows a lump and stands on shaky legs, holding out her arms to her best friend. "Come on, we're gonna get you inside, we'll top off your pain meds, because from the way you're clutching at your side, I can tell you've skipped a dose…"_

"_No." Kate argues, whining. "I don't want to take them. They make everything fuzzy."_

"_I know, Baby, but if you want to figure this out later, you need to take care of your pain now. Just trust me, okay? We'll figure it out."_

_Another whine just barely passes Kate's lips as Lanie pulls her to her feet. Lanie hauls her bag over her shoulder, shuffling across the porch to the front door of the cabin. She can feel how hard it is for Kate to move right now, and how much harder it is for herself be led like this. "I promise Kate, we'll figure something out."_

Castle lets out a breath heavier than lead when she finishes explaining the day to him. How they sat and talked for hours, how Lanie held Kate while she sobbed, frustrated and hurt and confused. He feels like something is eating at his insides to hear the reality of Kate's recovery, and his head aches to even imagine how hard it was for both of them.

For Kate _and_ Lanie.

"I'm sorry," he sighs, "I had no idea."

"No, you didn't." Lanie volleys back. She sounds a little irritated, less guilty now than when she started. "Alexis shouldn't have told you."

"Yes, she should have." He looks up at her with red eyes. Not from tears, but from the gravity of it all. "Because she felt terrible keeping it from me. She always was a horrible liar."

Lanie sits back in her chair, staring at him.

"But," his voice softens, "I'm really sorry that you're all caught up in this. I hope you know that."

"I know, Castle." She nods, matching his genuine tone. "But honestly, the two of you would be so screwed without me."

"Probably right." Castle claps his hands together and looks around her office before hanging his head. He takes a few heavy breaths before propping his head up on his hands, elbows on his knees, looking right at her. "Lanie, what do I do?"

She huffs, waving her arms in exasperation. "Why the hell does everyone keep asking _me_ what they should do?"

"Because without you, Lanie, we'd be hopelessly lost and wandering the city in search of the meaning of life." His comment garners a light laugh, thankfully, and she shakes her head in what appears to be resigned amusement and understanding.

"Just try talking to her, Castle."

He blows out another puff of air as he stands and walks to her door. "Fine. I'll try talking to her." There's still a touch of anger in his voice that makes Lanie nervous, but she waves him off, hopeful.

She listens as he trudges back through her morgue and down the hall as she runs her hands over her face, settling her arms folded across her chest.


	4. IV

Castle's own hand knocking on her door breaks him out of his trance. As he looks around, he's quickly realizing where he is, and, with a snort, supposes this was his next logical step.

Footsteps jolt him further out of his head and into reality, and he paints a facade of calm onto his face, knowing that he can't head into this with his anger apparent, or it will all blow up before it begins.

The doorknob turns, and Kate's face is a mixture of puzzlement and amusement at seeing her shadow unexpectedly at her door.

"Hey Castle," she opens the door to let him fully into her apartment.

As she turns to close the door, she hears him utter a single "Hey" and spins in time to watch him wordlessly sink into a chair and cover his face with his hands.

"Castle?"

He can't decide whether to sit or stand, so much conflicted emotion coursing through his body. With a frustrated sigh, he heaves himself up again as she folds herself onto her sofa, the dissonance of the actions not lost on him.

With a brief close of his eyes to brace himself, he looks her straight in the eyes and decides to just plunge headfirst.

"Tell me. Just tell me why." He watches the confusion on her face appear. "Tell me. Tell me why I have to hear from Alexis that you remember. Tell me, Kate." He is inching closer to her, and he can feel his body begin to break, feels his hands begin to shake, and he doesn't want to lose that. He wants to keep his cool for this, he knows that this isn't a conversation for screaming, this isn't meant to be an argument. He sees the blood drain from her face, and almost moves forward to catch her as her knees buckle. But touching her will do him in, will make the anger manifest into something physical.

"Castle -"

It sounds tight and distressed when it passes her lips, and it pokes at his gut, but he can't seem to find that calm argument that was in his head on his walk over.

"No. No excuses. I want you to think, clearly, before you answer this." He knows he sounds like he's scolding a child, but he can't get enough control of himself verbally. He knows what Alexis was going through, that all the words are there, and once they start, they just come tumbling out. "I want to know why you would talk to Lanie about me, about us, about what happened, and why for months, for _months_ you would ignore it."

"I don't … I don't know, Castle."

He whirls on her then, the anger clear in his eyes. "You don't know?" He bites off a laugh. "Alexis, Kate. I had to hear it from Alexis. My daughter. You know, I thought if I would ever hear it, it would be from you, but Alexis? Oh no, that's rich, Kate. Let me tell you, the guilt in her eyes, knowing that what she had to tell me could possibly break me? Broke my heart more than I thought it could. To know that my suspicions actually had some merit to them." He wants to cringe at the look in her eyes, for putting it there, but he just can't stop. It's hurt for so long. "Oh detective, you couldn't possibly think I had no idea? The PTSD, the breakdowns during the sniper case? It's hard to have a reaction to something you don't recall, isn't it?"

"No." She whispers, her voice bringing him back down to reality, to the realization that he's pacing her living room, her anxiety clearly written on her face. "Castle, I wish there was something I could say to you, something that could help this, but I know it doesn't exist."

He sighs and sits on the chair opposite her sofa, where she's curled her legs under herself, showing him the clear stress that he's putting her through.

She looks up at him, guilt and fear written on her face, and what he hopes aren't tears glancing off her cheeks. "Castle, I just … I couldn't do anything. I've been so close to apologizing, and whenever 'I'm sorry' comes close to coming out, I realize it's not going to be enough. Do you know how many times I wanted to tell you everything, and then realized I wasn't whole enough to do it? That I wasn't enough of a person to jump into what I know would be serious?"

He huffs at this, his anger bubbling to the surface again. "Kate, please. That's an excuse, and you know it. Lanie said -"

The look in her eyes tells him everything. It flashes, changes, her own anger brimming in an instant. "Lanie said? Really, _Rick. _You want to talk about hearing it second hand? Third hand? How about you hearing it from Alexis, and instead of asking me about it, you head straight to Lanie? Did you not trust me enough to come to me, instead you had to head to my best friend?"

He's standing again, his figure towering over her on her couch. "It's not a matter of trust, Kate! What was I supposed to do? You didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth yourself, so I guess, yeah, maybe it is a matter of trust." He huffs, and sits back down on her chair. "Kate, I just … dammit, Kate, I didn't want to fight with you on this. I just want … I just want to know why. Why you couldn't trust me, just … why." He feels like he's just run a marathon when he drops back into the chair. His brow is moist and his shirt collar feels like it's choking him.

The tears glancing down her cheeks can't be mistaken now, and he hates that. He hates that she's been able to take his anger and diminish it. He wants to be angry, he wants to yell more, but the look on her face? The pain, the anguish, the guilt? It eats at him more than he can bear, and the tears are the final knife through his heart. He hears her sniffle, and he looks up at her folded body.

"Castle, after I came back to your book signing, I told you that I have that wall, that I have to figure out my mother's case before I could be in the kind of relationship that I wanted to be in. Before I could be in any relationship. You've … you've made that wall seem less confining, and it terrifies me."

There's too much pressure sitting down, it feels like the whole atmosphere is collapsing on her. She heaves, pushing off the couch to stand and see the city outside of her window.

"But I can't let it go, Castle. I know I said I'd stop, but I can't. Maybe for now, but not forever. My case, my mom's case, it's too big of a piece in that wall. I have to know. I _deserve_ to know."

When she turns away from the glass his jaw is clenched. He's paled, and when she says his name he doesn't meet her eyes.

"Castle look at me."

He doesn't.

"Look at me, dammit!" She's seething, she knows he's keeping something from her. Her legs feel like stone and she can't move, her stomach rolls with fear.

He turns to her with eyes full of regret. His fist is covering his mouth as he stares right at her, not saying anything.

"You know something." She points an accusatory finger in his direction. "You know something, and you're not telling me. What is it Castle? Because we're already pissed at each other."

"I told you to back off your case."

She can only nod, waiting on baited breath for more.

"But…" he sighs, "what I didn't tell you, was that…I didn't. But a man called me and said-"

"Who?"

"I don't know! A friend of Montgomery's. I don't know his name."

"What the hell, Castle! You don't know this person, but you let them know about my life? My _personal_ life? Talk about trust? How can you trust someone you don't even know?"

"He said he knew Montgomery. And he knew how to keep it quiet. But he can only keep you safe if you stop pushing."

She sucks in a breath, nearly choking on the air. How could he do this to her? Again. Go behind her back. Again.

"You tell me not to go running into fire, but it's okay for you? What do you think? You're the big strong man, so you're allowed lie if you say it's to protect me?"

"Yes!" He challenges, jumping up from her couch. "That's exactly what I think! And you know damn well why! Or did you forget that you haven't forgotten how I watched you die in my arms?"

They're standing toe to toe, each with rage burning at their eyes, their bodies heavy with adrenaline and anger.

The longest moments of either of their lives pass before he dares speak again.

"Look, it's just….a lot." He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, "I think we both need some time to think. About us. And…everything. I'm going to go." He pivots, heads to her door, but stops and turns back to her as his hand grips the knob. "I'll call you in a few days. When we can both act like adults."

The tears are finally spilling from her eyes when Kate hears the door slam and everything crashes in. She can't think straight, and she's mad as hell. She flies through her apartment after locking and chaining the door behind him – the ass – stripping her clothes as she goes. She steps into a scalding hot shower, not caring that her skin will be red and raw when she gets out.

Maybe this pain will make everything else hurt less.


	5. V

She beats his promise to call when she walks up the steps to his building two days after their fight.

No. It wasn't a fight, she thinks, as she nods to the doorman and passes softly through the lobby. It was an explosion.

So bad that the little old lady who lived next door to her stopped her in the hall this morning to ask if she was alright.

Which she isn't.

Not yet.

Her legs feel like Jell-O when she finally steps off of the elevator and onto his floor. It's not a metaphor she particularly cares for, and she's pretty sure she could think of a better one if she really tried, but her mind's on one thing and her mental metaphors are not it.

She stands there, staring at the door, too nervous to knock. Her hand comes up and drops back down at least five times, before she hears the click of the tumblers and jumps back, startled.

The door opens and she's face to face with a very sullen-faced Alexis.

"Oh," Alexis sputters, "Hi, Detective Beckett."

"Please, it's Kate." Kate waves it off as nothing, not anywhere near less nervous as they stand there, the door shut now, just idly looking at each other and their feet and nothing in particular.

"Look, I'm…really sorry, about telling my dad. It wasn't mine to share, and I should've kept my mouth shut."

"Alexis, really, it's not your fault. It's mine. I should've just been honest in the first place and not even gone there with Lanie. You don't need to feel upset, or guilty or anything."

"I know. I'm not naive enough to think I'm totally responsible. But…"

"I need to apologize to you, Alexis. I know that things with your dad and I are…messy, and I know it's made you worry and put you in awkward situations, so, for that, I'm very, very sorry. But, I'm going to try and fix it."

Kate watches Alexis nod, the girls uneasiness still apparent. "Don't worry about us, okay? At least not more than anyone else does. Go on," she nods her over to the elevator, "don't let us ruin your plans."

Alexis steps away from the door, actually gets halfway down the hall before she looks over her shoulder, telling the detective to just go ahead and let herself in.

Kate smiles at her and looks back at the door. It is a lovely door. Dark wood, glossy. The apartment number '504' displayed in gold. She's doing the detective thing, taking in all the details, even things that are completely unimportant to the context. She knows it's delaying the inevitable, but she can't help it.

When she finally grasps the handle, turns it, and pushes the door open, the loft is dark. Not pitch black, because it's only two in the afternoon and the blazing sun filters through the huge windows, but dark enough for her to get the idea that he's brooding.

She pads through the space, quieter than normal in flats today rather than heels, and rests her hand against the door to his office. She's fairly certain he knows she's here. The walls are only bookshelves, and he had to have heard the opening and closing of the door a second time. She can hear the light click-clack of the keyboard – he's writing, good – but then it registers in her head that there's no rhythm to it, no speed, no passion.

And that drives a stake through her heart.

The door slides open, as if of its own volition, she leans on the frame, watching him. His brow is furrowed, he looks detached and depressed, but still the picture of a determined writer.

"What are you doing here?"

"Alexis let me in. We talked, briefly. For what it's worth I told her that she needs to stop feeling guilty, or worried, or whatever it is she feels right now."

He doesn't say anything, still staring at the laptop screen. But his fingers have stopped moving, the click-clack of the keyboard now absent.

"You don't think I feel like a horrible person because she got caught up in this? Because I sure as hell do. I never wanted that to happen, Castle. You have to understand that."

"Well what did you want to happen? You were just going to conveniently ignore it?" His voice kept an even meter and tone, not angry, but not calm either.

"I wasn't ignoring it, Rick. I was…getting better. Figuring out my head…." She stops so that she can put down her bag and try to gather her thoughts. The latter doesn't seem to happen as well as she wants. Instead of trying to push herself any farther she settles with crossing her arms and pacing in front of his desk.

"What do you want me to say, Castle, that I was wrong? Yes, I was wrong, I know that. That I'm a horrible person for leading you on, for lying to you? Yes, I've told myself that countless times." Kate diverts her head from the path her eyes seemed to be wearing in the floor, he's just sitting there with his head on his fist, watching her drive herself up a wall. She feels like a criminal in front of a judge.

And that's just not fair.

"And what about you, Castle? You want me to admit that I'm such a horrible person for lying to you, yet you won't extend the same courtesy? Ten years, Castle. Ten years of my life, I've put it behind myself repeatedly, and I thought this time was different. Her case, Castle? Her case is all I had when I started, she's why I am where I am today. Without it, what am I supposed to do? Who am I supposed to be?" She's pacing again, refusing to look him in his eyes.

"It took everything in me to stop. Everything, Rick! I didn't want to, we were so close." Her voice is a strained whisper. Her hands grab at her hair, pulling it tight against her scalp. "I know we could do it, I know we could find them. But I stopped. Because you asked me to. You, Castle. Had anyone else asked, I wouldn't have. You have to know that, you have to know the weight of what you asked of me, and what me agreeing with you took."

Kate finally looks up at him, arms folded on each other, and sighs.

"I know you did it because you care. Why do you think I did what I did? I wanted to get better for you. _Want_ to. It's not about the books anymore, it hasn't been, not for a long time. I had hoped … I want to hope that it goes both ways. I do care about you Castle, and I know you care about me. I think that's why this is so hard."

It's embarrassing how close to tears she is, but she came here to get all this off her chest, and damn it, she's going to.

"I said I was one and done, Castle. But it's hard, when everyone else I've known has left for something better, or something else has been a priority. But you ... you've stuck around, and that's new. And terrifying."

Before he can open his mouth to interject, she puts up a hand to stop him.

"I think I deserve an apology just as much as you do. You went behind my back, Rick." She stares him down. "You did exactly what you told me not to, knowing full well that you have so much more to lose if they decide to come after you."

"Kate, that's not true."

"It is, Rick, and you know it. What about Alexis? Your Mother? What would they do if you get killed…over me?" She shakes her head, eyes full to the brim with moisture, but hard-set on following this thing through. Whatever this thing was. "I can't live with that. Knowing that I'm the reason you might die has been enough of a challenge for the past two days alone, but if anything were to happen to you? I couldn't do it. As selfish as this may sound, if anything were to happen, I don't think I could survive. I don't know if I could come back from it."

He feels heavy all over, with regret, and acceptance that she's right. Except for one thing. "But Kate, you have just as much to lose as I do. Think about how many people it would crush if you didn't survive it next time. Your dad? Kate, it wouldn't just devastate him, it would destroy him. It would push him right back over the edge and you know it."

He's moved sometime since she's started talking and she didn't even notice. Now he's leaning against the edge of his desk, right in front of where she's standing.

"And what about you?" She whispers, her stomach jumping for his answer.

"I'd be right beside you the whole time."

She hesitates for a split second. "I don't want you to die for this."

"I don't want you to die for this either. You're deserving of a lot of things, Kate. But dying in the sake of vengance isn't one of them. Your mom would want you to live. Happily."

She swipes at a lone tear that's escaped and is running down her face. "That's what I'm trying to do. I'm trying to push the case into the background, so I can be…whole. I don't want to feel like the ground is falling out from under me again." She looks up at him, to find him looking right back at her with understanding and compassion. "You need to do that too. Partners, right?"

He smiles. Warmth spreads all through her at the sight, and she smiles back.

"Partners."

Somehow, she's turned around, and they end up side by side on his desk, facing away from the rest of his loft, both focusing on the never-ending staircase in front of them. His fingers glance off the back of her hand, and she reflexively flips hers over, surprise stretching across her face as he takes hers fully, grasping it almost as if it were a life line.

"So, about…what I said." He starts, and she turns to look at him.

"Is knowing that I know enough, for now? And that the sentiment's not just a one-way thing?"

The subtext flashes in his face, the real meaning of what she says, and what she wants to say, but can't…yet.

"Yeah," his lips quirk up at the edges, that smile that seems to make her feel alive and whole again.

With a satisfied sigh, she tentatively places her head on his shoulder, and closes her eyes at the brush of his lips on the crown of her head.

"We'll get there, Kate."

She believes him, especially feeling how perfectly they fit together like this. She's tucked into his side, her slim right hand cozied within his large warm left. "Just don't give up on us, yet, okay?"

"Never."

* * *

><p><strong><span>The story behind the story:<span>** ajksmusic and I were discussing "Pandora," and she goes "what if Castle found out about Beckett's secret from Alexis?" Then we both got ridiculously excited at the possibility of writing it. It turned into a collaboration that started on Thursday, and took us just UNDER 36 hours to write. We literally, did not stop. **-TappinCastlefan**

And by under 36 hours, it was by minutes, and I'm pretty sure we skipped a lot of sleep to do this. I had this pesky thing called work that got in the way, and I have a notebook full of random notes and scenes that I kept running into the office to write. I just loved the scene with Lanie and Alexis and how comfortable they were already, and wanted a different way to write Castle finding out. It really was an absolute blast writing this, and I hope you all enjoyed it! **-ajksmusic**


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